


the wind has blown (but now I know)

by ariadne_odair



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, References to Depression, Skinny Steve, a little sad, but hes doing okay, but hopeful, s and b really really love each other, steve struggles with depression, supportive bfs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-20
Updated: 2019-09-20
Packaged: 2020-10-24 11:28:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20705252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ariadne_odair/pseuds/ariadne_odair
Summary: Steve’s had a crappy day, so when Clint sends a message to the group chat that just reads: DRINKS YES OR YES, his heart immediately lifts. He replies with a thumbs up emoji. Clint sends three hearts in return. Bucky responds to that with a knife emoji, a running man and a box with a tick in it.It’s vaguely threatening, in a sweet and endearing way. Steve likes that in a guy.





	the wind has blown (but now I know)

**Author's Note:**

> There is discussion of depression in this - Steve struggles with depression and has had a rough couple of days. This isn't a sad fic (I think) and tries to be hopeful. I am not at all an expert on mental health and how I depict depression in this story is not how other people may experience it. It's based on my own experiences. 
> 
> This is a hopeful story but I'm not trying to minimise mental health either - Steve is struggling, but has lots of support around him - both professional and otherwise - and is learning to cope.

Steve’s had a crappy day, so when Clint sends a message to the group chat that just reads: **DRINKS YES OR YES**, his heart immediately lifts. He replies with a thumbs up emoji. Clint sends three hearts in return. Bucky responds to that with a knife emoji, a running man and a box with a tick in it.

It’s vaguely threatening, in a sweet and endearing way. Steve likes that in a guy.

Sam agrees with a ‘_hell yes_.’ Clint and Sam duke it out about where to go, but settle on their usual place. It’s two for one cocktails before nine and they make a mean burger. 

Steve forces himself off the couch and towards the shower. The past few days haven’t been great mental-health wise and he’s spent most of it curled up and hating himself, with the Netflix menu screen blinking at him. He’s just feeling crappy and this time it’s hit him out of nowhere.

Having depression _sucks_. Steve knows that’s a pitifully simplistic description but it true and more importantly it’s how he feels. At least that’s what his therapist says. Not that depression sucks - she says that in a much more eloquent way though with the same sentiment. But about Steve being honest about how he feels. 

Steve hates being so mentally tired that he can’t do anything. Steve hates that his brain doesn’t care about that; that his brain will still tell him he’s lazy and pathetic and should be getting up and doing something.

No-one ever talks about the ugly parts of depression either. Like the fact Steve hasn’t washed his hair in three days or that the blanket he’s been hiding under desperately needs a wash. That his throat hurts, burns at the back with how hungry he is, yet the idea of leaving the couch and making some food seems completely insurmountable. 

Steve has been worse. Like, much worse. Not that that’s the point - but some distant part of Steve acknowledges it hasn’t been as terrifyingly overwhelming as it’s been before. Steve called his therapist on the second day. It was the only thing on his to-do list. That’s another thing his therapist suggested, making a list no matter how small it is. It made him feel better. Not better enough to get off the couch, but. Better.

“Gold star, Rogers,” Steve mumbles to himself.

He’s glad he called her. He wouldn’t have a year ago. 

There’s this flickering, tentative beat in his heart which he thinks might be hope. That Steve will get through this again. 

Then he only spends four minutes staring at the wall of the shower, so he counts that as a double win. 

Steve dries off and rubs a towel through his hair. He pulls on an old hoodie of Bucky’s. You could probably fit Steve in it three times over, Steve is that skinny. Then he collapses on his bed and scrolls through his phone. Bucky’s sent him a separate WhatsApp message.

**buck:** do u wanna get food with bird one and two

**buck:** cause if u wanna bail i’ll swing by yours and bring thai. only if you want want to tho. 

**buck:** dw about what they'll say if we cancel, I'll just say i'm sick of looking at barton’s face . 

Steve loves him stupid amounts.

**steve:** no it’s cool. It will be good to see the guys and i need to unstick myself from the couch anyway.

**buck:** k. 

**buck:** love you

**steve:** love you too. so much. 

Sometimes having Bucky around when he’s feeling low helps, but sometimes Steve just needs to be on his own. Bucky gets it and Steve does the same for him; God knows he’s spent countless nights holding Bucky through nightmares or talking Bucky through an anxiety attack.

It’s comforting knowing Bucky is there regardless, steady and unwavering and a phone call away if Steve needs him. 

Steve sits up and pulls his shoes on. He shoves his hands in his pockets and shuffles towards the door. It’s a nice night and he wants to walk.

-

Brooklyn is loud at night, loud and busy. Steve loves it, loves feeling anonymous in a sea of noisy and excitable people, people leaving work and running to catch the train, women in groups chatting loudly and tired looking kids being dragged along by their parents. It feels _alive_.

Bucky’s waiting for him. He’s lent against the wall outside, arms crossed. He looks so handsome that Steve trips over his own feet and stumbles. Actually stumbles, like Steve’s a heroine in a dumb heterosexual rom-com, instead of a skinny asthmatic who is firstly, very bi and secondly, dating him childhood best friend because Steve picked fights with everyone else his age. 

Bucky’s hair is pulled back into a tail. He’s wearing a leather jacket and his eyelashes are ridiculously long, an ashy sweep that frames bright blue eyes. “Hey,” he says softly. 

He doesn’t move from the wall, leaving it all on Steve’s terms. Steve steps forwards and kisses him. Presses his lips to Bucky’s and sighs as Bucky’s mouth parts under his. Steve is flooded with relief, with _belonging_, feels as though there is a golden string connecting their hearts, tying their souls together.

Steve breaks the kiss. He drops down to the balls of his feet.

“Hey.”

Bucky reaches forward and tugs on the string of Steve’s hoodie. His other hand rests on Steve’s waist, warm and comforting. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Steve thinks about it. “Not right now. Maybe later.”

“Okay,” Bucky says easily. “You want to split a side of onion rings?”

“Fuck yes,” Steve groans, and Bucky laughs and pulls him into the restaurant, hands linked.

-

Sam doesn’t mention Steve’s three day hiatus, because Sam is the best. Also because Sam is a trained counsellor and knows lots of important concepts like not pressuring people and letting them come to you. Or something. Actually that’s only one concept, but Steve is sure there is more, he just gets distracted easily.

Sam does give Steve a hug, a proper one, not one of those fake hugs that secretly homophobic guys do, where they have to slap each other three times on the back or it’s gay. A proper hug, because neither Sam or Steve promote toxic masculinity and also because Sam has really great arms.

Sam hugs him, (seriously, the best arms), then pulls back and says, “Good to see you, man.”

He doesn’t say anything else about it, which Steve is grateful for. Steve will probably talk to Sam at some point about his three-day depression slump. Sam goes running every morning and Steve has decided to join him, meaning Sam runs and Steve drags his broken body along behind like a rogue caterpillar.

Steve is vehemently against any form of exercise, but Bucky had read an article about running improving lung capacity. He’d looked so hopeful that Steve didn’t have the heart to tell him it was probably bogus. As far as fake news goes, it’s fairly innocuous in comparison to the current bullshit that the papers are selling.

Clint arrives fifteen minutes late and ruffles Steve’s hair like a little kid. “I wanted to bring Lucky,” Clint tells them seriously. “But the restaurant said no dogs. So I need to order three sides of onion rings.”

Clint climbs over Sam to get the window seat, instead of just asking Sam to move like a normal person. Steve hides his smile at Sam’s expression in his cup; Bucky doesn’t bother hiding his own amusement. 

Bucky flips the menu over to read the options on the back. “Why three sides?”

“So I can eat two and smuggle one into my bag to take home to Lucky.”

Sam frowns. “If you asked them, they’d probably box them up for you to take them home.”

Clint rolls his eyes. “Yeah, but where’s the fun in that?” Clint takes a long slurp of his drink, then addresses Steve. “Hey, Rogers, still depressed?”

“Clint!” Sam hisses.

Steve shrugs. He doesn’t overly mind. Clint’s brash but he doesn’t mean to cause offence. He’s not prying either - he’s genuinely asking Steve how he is, in the only way Clint knows how. Clint’s told them all about his own depression and being a sarcastic asshole is just how Clint copes with it. Steve appreciates the bluntness, honestly. “I had a three day depression nap but things are a bit better now.”

Clint nods. “I’ve been there, man. I still am there. I’m on new meds.” Steve, Sam and Bucky all wince in sympathy but Clint waves them off. “Got a new counsellor, too, but she seems okay. Had a picture of a dog on her desk.” Clint kicks Steve’s foot. “Here if you want to talk, man.”

“Thank you,” Steve says quietly, and feels immeasurably grateful for his friends.

Clint salutes him and promptly moves on to picking a fight with Sam about the movie they’re going to see next. Clint wants to see a film about a killer clown. Sam resolutely _does not. _

Steve hooks his foot around Bucky’s under the table. “Do you think we should get the spicy onion rings?”

Bucky shakes his head. “Babe, you had them last time and you didn’t like them.”

Steve leans over so he can read the menu Bucky is looking at, placing a hand on Bucky’s thigh for balance. “Did I?”

Bucky slides an arm around Steve’s waist. “Yeah. You said, ‘no fucking onion ever tasted like that and they were the rings of the devil.’ You were very specific.”

Steve shrugs. “Sounds like me.” 

“You also made me eat three of them to see if it was a one off which, spoiler, it wasn't.”

Steve hums. “Sounds fake, but okay.”

Bucky snorts. “I’m not surprised you don’t remember, that was the same night you were drunk off your ass during karaoke. And instead of singing a Beyonce song, you made a speech about - “

Steve’s glares at him. “We don’t need to relive that night, Barnes.”

Bucky smirks. “Why not? I think all the drunks really liked your speech about climate change. I especially liked the bit where you called the president a - “

Steve hides his face with the menu. “I forgot the words so I just - improvised.”

Bucky blinks. “Stevie, it’s karaoke, the words were on the screen?” Bucky asks slowly, like it’s a question, and then they’re both doubled over in laughter. 

Steve eventually leans back but keeps one thigh slung over Bucky’s leg. Buck doesn’t seem to mind; he keeps his arm hooked around Steve’s waist. Their sides are pressed together, Bucky a warm line against him. Steve leans his head against Bucky’s shoulder. There are two candles on their table, flames flickering gently. Steve watches them and his eyes are suddenly heavy, exhaustion creeping up on him. Bucky presses his lips to Steve’s hair. 

Steve turns to kiss him properly. Something wet hits his face and he startles, jerking back. “What - “

There’s an onion ring in his lap and Clint is glaring at him. Steve glares right back. Bucky picks the onion ring up and throws it at Clint’s head. “What the fuck, Barton?”

Clint narrows his eyes. “I didn’t come here to watch you two be gross and in love, I came here to steal onion rings for my dog.”

Sam rolls his eyes. “It’s not stealing if you’ve paid for it, Clint.”

Clint ignores him, brandishing the onion ring like a laser pointer. “You two are even worse now you’re fucking.”

Bucky says, deadpan, “We’re not fucking.”

Steve, who is sat in Bucky’s lap and wearing Bucky’s sweater, says, “I have never met this man in my life.”

Steve didn’t think Clint was capable of turning that shade of red. “Steve, you’re wearing his clothes!”

Steve holds up his hands, where the sleeves of Bucky’s sweater are so long they cover his hands. “Clearly this fits me perfectly.”

“You’re such a little shit,” Clint snaps, but Steve can tell he’s smiling. “If you two are going to sit there cuddling, I’m ordering six cocktails.”

Bucky puts his hands under Steve’s shirt and says in a reasonable tone, “We’re not even touching, Clint, God.”

Clint gives him the middle finger and orders a Pina Colada. Steve snuggles into Bucky’s side and steals some of Bucky’s fries. Bucky pretends not to notice and Steve pretends not to notice Bucky adding onion rings to Steve’s plate. 

They’ll talk later, on the way home. Bucky will probably stay the night and he won’t say anything about Steve’s couch, or the dirty sheets, or that there’s no food in the fridge. He’ll just hold Steve and, in the morning, they deal with it together.

Steve ends up falling asleep right there in the booth, cheek pillowed on Bucky’s shoulder. Exhausted and wrought, but warm and surrounded by people he loves.

He’s ready for a new day.

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from Tomorrow will be Kinder by The Secret Sisters.
> 
> This ended up having hardly any buck in it??? and was all about steve really lol also steve is skinny in this because initially i just wanted to write skinny steve in a bucky's hoodie and then it spiralled
> 
> this is probs the most nervous i have ever been about writing a fic but i also need to go to sleep now. so. be kind? to yourself at least
> 
> *update* I have been informed onion rings are bad for dogs, so rest assured Clint googles this, eats three sides of onion rings himself and takes Lucky for a nice walk instead 😂 🐶 *


End file.
